


Repaying Debts

by Scented_Candle



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:06:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1427866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scented_Candle/pseuds/Scented_Candle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robert Baratheon wasn't a smart man and Cersei Lannister was not a forgiving woman. After the loss of her first child, another is given to her and now with the child depending on Cersei to keep her alive and safe, the Queen must accept her new daughter, or risk a blow to her pride if she let the babe die.</p><p>Born and raised by Lannister's and Baratheon', who will little Eya end up as? The woman she is meant to be, or the women she is meant to become? A reptile in Lannister Silk, or a dragon in Baratheon fur?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Repaying Debts

 

**Chapter 1**

 

Cries echoed in the busy halls of the Red Keep, maids scurried around preparing rooms and sheets while guards shuffled uncomfortably at their posts outside the doors of Queen Cersei’s bed chambers. Cersei had fallen into labour five hours ago, a week later then the estimated due date, and so far no-one had left the room or entered to deliver the good news. Her brother, Jaime Lannister, the handsome, loyal Kings guard sat beside her, holding her hand as tightly as she held his and whispered words of support into her ears.

 

One looking onto the scene would have though Jaime were the loyal husband, the perfect husband for Cersei. But alas, Cersei’s husband was King Robert Baratheon, currently indisposed at the time to do what only he could do to waste time mourning his loss and forgetting what life he had now with a wife that he would never love.

 

Nursemaids scuttled and offered milks to ease pain and salves to ease the passage, but Cersei was determined to suffer this through, to prove that she could handle to pain. The pain that came in more ways than just of labour. The pain of an aching heart knowing that her husband would never be here for her like she wanted, the pangs of pain of something telling her that something wasn’t right and then the pain of physically forcing her body to continue on and never stop.

 

Then the time came, the nursemaid between her legs told her to push, and with a battle cry, Cersei did, closing her eyes to withstand the pain and doing the dreaded task of birthing the child whenever the nursemaid called for it. Several moments past and silence filled the room, with no strength left to look at why the child was so silent, she glanced at Jaime, who shook his head at the nursemaid and turned back to his dear sister.

 

Cersei shuddered for a moment, mind still weak and body exhausted to fully comprehend what just happened, but when it did she cried, she yelled, screamed and wailed, weakly thrashing in her bloodied bed, cursing everybody yet nobody for this horrible thing. In a seconds time, Jaime was lying beside her, arms pulling hers to him and letting her tears soak his shirt.

 

His own mind was blank, say for the image of watching the nursemaid carry away the stillborn child of his sister and king. Though his heart ached with everything his mind couldn’t, the pain for his sister and what could have been his nephew, his dreaded desire to strangle the king he had to loyally serve and then the fact that he would have to do this every time his sister went into labour, he would have to suffer the pain of knowing that the first child they had would never breathe, laugh or call him ‘uncle’, and then the haunted concern of each child following it to follow the same fate.

 

He shook such thoughts from his head and nuzzled his sisters head, listening to her sobs quieten until her breathing became even and her grip limp. He stayed with her, waiting for the maids to prepare another room for her and when he received word, picked up his sister and gently carried her away, not sparing a glance at the hole that he left behind in both hearts.

 

The night spanned long and cold, the castle seemingly dead after such an event. And it was in the middle of the night that Jaime was interrupted in his watching his sister by the thundering steps of one man he knew could only possess such an ungainly stride. He felt his anger burn in his veins and stood up, almost knocking the chair he was sitting on over and storming to the door, wrenching it open before tensing, realizing that his anger would get him no-where and watched Robert exit the room Cersei had once occupied.

 

He didn’t hide his disappointment and discontent from Robert, and instead stood fiercely between the drunken king and his sister. Yes, Jaime feared the wrath of Robert Baratheon, but he had his own anger just brimming under the surface and it would no doubt turn into a blood bath if they both were to burst. But Robert stopped before him, took once glance over Jaime’s shoulder and turned his gaze back to stare straight into Jaime’s criticising stare.

 

“It was a boy.” Was all he said, voice clear even though the alcohol within him forced his body to sweat and sway before the kings guard.

 

Jaime nodded but remained silent, refusing Robert’s silent inquiry to enter the room and watched as the man he had grown to hate turn and walk back to the room the stillborn babe lay, shutting the door behind him silently. Jaime turned, closed the door to Cersei’s room and shook, in fear and pain and felt his feet give out under him.

 

He slid down the door, his emotions raging within him like an angry sea and wept. He wept for his sister, his family and himself. Because there was nothing left for him to do. He was only a king’s guard, the Queen’s Brother, the _kings slayer_.

 

* * *

 

 

The Red Keep remained silent for the next three weeks. Word had gotten out that Cersei had lost her child and Kingslanding wept with her during the funeral, it seemed that even the gods offered their sympathies when the clouds opened up and rain poured down on them.

 

Robert and Cersei hardly even spoke, just ate and interacted as a married couple should in the presence of the counsel and the lords and ladies of other keeps who offered their sympathies with gifts and well-structured words. Cersie herself grew tired of hearing the same words spoken to her by the people who wished to gain favour for their sympathies and in turn started to miss the scheduled visits of the same lords and ladies of the court and instead took to spending her time in the fully furnished room beside hers that was meant to be the child’s, running her hands over the carved wood of the cribs frame and holding the toys meant for the child.

 

It was during those times that she let her mask fall and her tears to come to the surface, and that is always how either her brother or Robert found her. Sitting on the rocking chair, cradling the doll like a babe and weeping.

 

Robert was quickly getting agitated with his wife’s behaviour, not only was she secluding herself but also maiming her image as a good queen in court. He found himself on the streets again, one of his guards with him and walking towards the orphanage for newly born babes, mind set on getting his wife a babe to distract herself with then let herself slowly die in grief.

 

He pushed past the blubbering fool of a care-giver who blanched the moment she saw her king at the door and walked straight to the section where babes lay in the cribs, gurgling happily or sleeping soundly. He walked through the rows, glancing at each babe with a look akin to disdain and finally stopped at a babes crib. The child was small, sleeping soundly, unaware of the man that lurked over her. With golden white hair and a small face that promised future beauty, Robert gently picked her up and held her sleeping form up to the light, watching the way her chubby legs curled up and her arms moved slightly to her sides.

 

He nodded to his guard, who provided more than enough payment for the caregiver and walked out, babe cradled in his arms and face set in a look of utter concentration. His feet carried him more quickly than what was normal to Red Keep, where he passed more guards who let him pass without moment’s hesitation and up the stairs to the room he knew Cersei would be in.

 

He found her, staring at the empty crib with a blank face and cleared his throat, stepping into the room and gently putting the babe in the crib and stepping back. Watching his wife watch the babe with a look he couldn’t understand but hoped was good. It wasn’t until she turned to look at him that he fell onto the receiving end of one of her fury driven glares, looking more than insulted at the presence of the child.

 

“What is that?” She hissed, stepping away from the girl as if she held the plague.

 

Robert answered easily, “A babe for you to raise as one of our own.”

 

He didn’t expect the stinging pain in his cheek, nor the agonized cry of his wife as she fell to the floor followed by the disturbed cries of the babe. “I don’t want a child from the orphanage! I don’t want your sympathies!” She cried, words drowned out by the child’s wails.

 

He closed his eyes and breathed in, “Then don’t. Let the child die, don’t care for it, don’t love it. Leave it.” His alternative plan seemed to bring an even harsher stare to her features and she stood, back straightening and chin lifting.

 

“Never.” That one word was followed by her dropping the doll and picking up the small babe and holding her to her chest, gently cradling the babe and soothing it until it fell asleep. And continued to hold her until Robert felt his eyes start to water at the sight.

 

He turned and left without a word then, closing the door behind him gently and leaving his wife in the care of the babe that was now his child.

 

The Queen stared at the babe, the features so alike her own yet so different that it hurt her to even stare. Though no relation in blood, this babe looked more like family with the blond hair and fine skin. “Oh, you poor creature, falling into the hands of a lion like I. Eya… my Eya.”

 

* * *

 


	2. The Quick, The Clever, The Secret

**Chapter 2**

In King’s Landing, it was customary for the King and Queen to present their first born child to the city. But, in all situations, rumour spread that the child was not theirs and word soon reached the families of both Sigils, further raising doubts of the King’s and Queen’s ability to rule successfully when they couldn’t produce an heir.

 

Within a short span of the child falling into Cersei’s grasp, Tywin and Tyrion were at the door step of the Red Keep, one fuming and the other looming over the poor babe who looked terrified of the equally confusing and unfamiliar male faces above her. Cersei finally grew tired of both scowling faces and picked up the babe, cradling her to her chest and sending an unimpressed stare at both family members who watched with eagle eyes after the babe.

 

“This will taint the Lannister image! My daughter, the queen who cannot produce an heir, so she decides to carry an orphan child in place of an heir!” The elder figure, Tywin the three sibling’s father, ranted. Finally ceasing his rant to face his child. “You will care for the child and raise her as one of your daughters. You will accept her and do as you would any child, and do so with your true children in the future. Tell her she is of Lannister and Baratheon blood, let her believe that she is your heir and soon the child with believe it enough to convince others.”

 

Tyrion’s eyebrows shot straight up his deep-set brow and he nodded in agreement, “Yes! A sound plan, and when they do bear a child of legitimate birth, what then? Shall we push aside the so called ‘heir’ and let the second rule?”

 

Tywin opened his mouth to retort but the babe gave a cry and Cersei glowered at the two men, “I will raise her as my own and she will know just what she is. And she will wear it proudly, it will become her weapon.”

 

Tyrion nodded, taking a sip of his wine, while Tywin pursed his lips and nodded. “Then, let me hold the newest member of our family.” Cersei watched his eyes steadily, suddenly feeling much like a lioness protecting her cub from the lion and slowly handed Eya over, cradling her head before letting her father fully take her and hold her himself.

 

“Eya? Yes, Eya. An elegant name.” He looked up at Cersei, “You are lucky, Robert had enough sense to pick the child with similar features.”

 

Cersei’s lips pursed together, “She has a name and will be referred to as such. And Robert, thankfully, is not blind.”

 

Tyrion raised his mug, “Yet the realm would benefit greatly if he were.”

 

Cersei didn’t back the small lifting of the corner of her lips and felt it pull up even more when Eya giggled, as though agreeing with Tyrion’s sentiment. And he didn’t miss the chance to comment on that, “See, even Eya has a sense of humour!"

 

And all watched with small smiles on their face at the giggling child who wiggled and waved her small fists in the air, chasing the finger of Tywin. All the whilst, Jaime stood by the door, eyes set on the babe with a piercing stare, penetrating the babe’s own set of beautiful eyes with his own. And he swore, on his blade and name, that he had seen eyes like those pierce his soul before.

 

* * *

 

After the gathering with the Lannister’s and properly titling Eya, the rumours died down. And with another few weeks of mothering her child and letting Robert speak on their behalf about his heir and people, the semi-normal quietness returned to the Red Keep. A comfortable calm that reflected the late summer weather and the brightness of Eya’s smile as she began to finally crawl.

 

Robert had been absent for the first small, sure movements of Eya’s legs and unsteady hands, but appeared from his hunt quickly, still dressed in gear and sweating, beard soaking up the sweat and causing him to look like a humanized waterfall. But he came and watched little Eya move around on her own, and laughed along with Cersei’s and the little one’s giggles, chuckling and offering a toy whenever the quickly growing babe made its way towards him.

 

Finally, after a good time spent with the quickly tiring babe, he picked her up. And for the first time, he cradled the young Eya in his arms, wondering about his own stillborn child and this little decision brought to them both by a moment of grief and frustration, and for the better part of him, he couldn’t find it in himself to ever think of a better child to replace this babe in his arms right now.

 

* * *

 

When Eya finally began walking and running steadily, it was as though the whole castle would come alive in the search for her. The King and Queen would always be found searching for her in rooms and closest. It was always, in the moment Robert, Cersei or the nursemaid looked away for a few moments that Eya would disappear behind a door or corner and be lost until she appeared again, covered in webs, dust or cradled in the arms of the gardener who was attempted to pluck the several flowers and leaves from her fingers and hair.

 

Her giggles would rock even the sturdiest of warriors and her smile would put smiles on everyone’s faces, no matter how reluctant or secret the smile was. But it was when her giggles suddenly faded, Cersei and her brother, Jaime fell silent, their conversation dying and falling into a small state of panic when at several glances the child was not seen in the room.

 

“Eya!” Cersei hissed and stood up, searching all the corners and crevices in the room for the troublesome child as Jaime opened the door and checked the hallways, only hearing the faint giggle disappear in either direction of the hall.

 

“She went this way,” He called to Cersei, turning and hastily rushing down the stairs and mentally cursing the child for being so fast and sly that a few seconds would be enough for her to disappear for hours. They both rushed about, calling to the little girl, only to hear her giggles reply to their calls. They turned hallways and rushed down stairs, both panting with exhaustion as when they finally reached the end of another set of stairs.

 

“How far can I child of her age run? I say we put a leash on her when we finally catch her.” Jaime managed to choke out in his laboured breathes and received a dry stare from his sister to which he only grinned quickly. “Just imagine what your child would be like.”

 

Cersei sighed and clutched at her slowly growing belly, surprised herself at how quickly she had gotten with child after she had lost the first one. Though, she thought, with the new one, Eya, running around and bringing more than enough joy to these halls, and with Robert's drunken soliloquies of wanting another child running the halls like Eya. ANd wih that thought and need in mind, his drunken attempts often left Cersei feeling as though a child would be best to distract her from the type husband he had always been. Cersei finall convinced herself that another would do her more happiness in a place where it seemed Robert was no-longer existent or caring.

 

It was when they found her, deep in the Red Keep Dungeon’s, beside the enormous dragon skulls, with the fire glinting of her bone white hair and the bone of the dragon skull that they both stopped and simply stared, unable to comprehend nor react with what they finally saw before them. Underneath, sitting inside the massive jaw of the creature was little Eya, gripping one of the smaller fangs in her hand and simply smiling at the skulls around her and her family in front of her.

 

Both glanced at each other, similar green hued eyes meeting as an understanding flashed between them. An understanding that both didn’t want thrust upon them, but knew that the earlier they knew the safer it would be for little Eya.

 

Jaime finally spoke, “How did she get here?”

 

Cersei broke out of her stupor and rushed to pick the child up, ignoring the way the child protested and wiggled against her grip and walked up the stairs, out of the dungeon, her eyes burning with anger. “Find out who left this corridor unattended, make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She bit out, mind reeling with the information that suddenly filled her head. She shushed the child when it started to cry and pet its white head, “Oh, my Eya. How could you?”

 

And even though the child was not to blame, Cersei knew that Robert would always find a reason to blame a dragon. Because even his sense of rightouness would not pass over little Eya.

 

Author: Thank you for reading this story :D I'm very surprised in the attention it got. I hope you're not disappointed in this chapter, the beginning is a bit slow, but it will pick up quickly. Thanks again!


	3. The Lost, The Found, The Tomb

**Chapter 3: The Lost, The Found, The Tomb**

 

 

Eya grew quickly in the years that had come and gone, growing tall and more beautiful as the years passed. Joffrey, her younger brother, born a year just after she was brought into the family grew alongside her, and soon learnt that following his older sister would no doubt give him great entertainment and fun. And now, the two youngsters, one of eight and the other of six, peeked around the corner, eyes and mouths moving as they observed the two dazing guards guarding their families treasure room. 

 

"Now, wait Joff. We have to make sure they're not looki-" Eya, smart and clever in her own childish way, gasped as the looked and saw nothing but empty air, her brother now halfway between the closed door and the dazing guards who were slowly shuffling up and down the corridor. She ran after him, feet barely making any sound in the expensive slippers she wore, and diving into the parted doorway just before Joffrey closed it. Glaring at her brother with crossed arms and a pout. "Don't do that! We could have been caught!"

 

He silenced her again with his hand pressing against her mouth, and his ear pressed again the door, listening to the guards who briefly stopped to chat at the door and then again resume their bored walk. "Don't talk. They'll hear us and we can't have father catching us here!"

 

Eya nodded and finally turned, eyes widening at the gold chests and large mannequins covered in expensive armours. She and Joffrey shared a look, both eyes keen to delve into the wonders of a room never before explored. "Oh, wow! This is so pretty!" She said, picking up a jewelled necklace of shining sapphires and gold, she held it against her neck, turning to face Joffrey, only to see him draped in silk robes of gold and a crown too large for his head on his forehead and falling. She laughed, quickly stifling it with her hand and grabbing a robe herself, pulling it over her small shoulders and clipping the necklace around her neck. "I am Queen Eya! Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms!" She exclaimed, hands spread wide an marched down an imaginative isle, stopping before an old wooden throne that had no doubt seen better days and sitting down on it, feet swinging in rhythm before turning on her bottom and climbing to stand on the throne. " Kneel before your Queen, my loyal...ah?" She looked to Joffrey for help for the right word, but he only shrugged. 

 

She pouted, before grinning again, "Every Queen needs a crown! I want one!" And she hopped off the throne, unknowingly rocking it and breaking its stability. She pushed Joffrey lightly out of the way, grinning at him with a wide toothy smile before digging into the chest he had found his crown in and pulling out one that was, once again, much to large for a child's head but perfect in every way. Joffrey bumped up against the old throne, his light push and the fact that Eya had knocked it off its legs left the throne tilting backwards and down, straight towards the standing mannequin of shimmering gold and broken ruby armour, hidden underneath a dusty red drape. 

 

They both jumped at the sound of wood hitting carpeted stone, and though the sound was slightly muted, it would be no surprise if the guards had heard and were on their way. Both turned to the source of the sound, feet inching towards the item that stole their fun and let their eyes widen when shining gold revealed an arm of armour. Joffrey was the first to move, uncaring at the noise he made now that the first big break in their fun was taken, and Eya followed suit. Eyes shining with delight when Joffrey pulled off the red drape and revealing the most beautiful set of armour in the entire kingdom, Eya thought. 

 

"Wow." They both chorused, fingers twitching with the urge to touch such magnificence, but afraid that one touch would shatter the already shattered appearance of the Three Headed Ruby dragon. 

 

"My Lady, My lord! You are not meant to be here!" One of the guards had finally woken up and opened the door, face covered in the customary mask of the Kings Guard, revealed the eyes of a man who was sweating and filled with nerves. "Come with me, the King would surely want to hear of this!" He said, his tone was enough to put the children in their place without argument and they followed after him, heads bowed down in shame of being caught breaking the rules and possibly getting in trouble. 

 

* * *

 

Both Joffrey and Eya had been taken to their rooms after a thorough scolding from both parents, yet Robert was more lenient towards the children's growing curiosity adventures, Cersei was worried for their safety. With the two youngest, Myrcella and Tommen already learning quickly from their eldest to misbehave, she took it upon herself to deal out the consequences of their trouble. And now, Eya and Joffrey were left without dinner and supper, and not allowed dessert for the rest of the week. That was enough to frighten the youngest into following their mother at her heel and playing only where they were allowed. 

 

Now, with all children in bed and Robert gone for the night and waited in her room, door unlocked and curtains shut, for her beloved to visit her. Silk gown already adorning her body and hair left to sway slightly in the breeze the curtains allowed to escape. 

 

And finally, the door creaked open and in stepped a familiar shadow. She smiled and turned, arms wrapping around a muscular body and pressing her curves against rigid, cold armour. 

 

"Finally, my love."

 

And Jaime grinned, bending down to kiss her lips before returning her sentiment. 

 

* * *

 

 

Eya fiddled with her braided hair, fingers pulling at the braid causing kinks and uneven bits to fluff out of her white blonde hair. Sweet eyes danced with mischief as she watched her uncles, Jaime and Tyrion debate on the other side of the dinner table, and bit back a grin when Tyrion caught her stare with his own and raised a brow. He completely ignored what his brother said in turn of facing Eya, his favourite child other than sweet Tommen to grace this family. "Now, what are you planning?" He asked, leaning forward and letting his elbows hold the weight of his head. 

 

She grinned bashfully, "Nothing!" And promptly ignored his gaze when they drilled into her, unsure if he should perhaps put a stop to her mischief or see where it goes. Jaime seemed to be having the same thoughts and glanced around the room with one cautious, keen eye. 

 

"What _are_ you planning?" He asked, mimicking his brothers question. Eyes searching Eya's for any hints that he or Tyrion might be the target. Only a cheeky grin met his stare and she bit her lip to hide it, tongue poking out slightly in restraint. 

 

"Nothing!" She called again and turned in her seat, back facing them before peeking over her shoulder. A giggle followed before she leapt off her seat and dashed through the maids and ladies of the court and disappeared out of the hall, leaving both relatives in disarray and confusion. 

 

"Dear brother, did not Cersei tell you to watch her?" Tyrion asked, a grin stretching across his lips. 

 

Jaime raised a brow, "Did she not tell you the same thing?"

 

Both glanced at each other, same thoughts coursing through their heads and they cursed, standing up and following after the child. 

 

* * *

 

 

By the time they had discovered Eya, she was half buried underneath the expensive silks of past noblemen and gifts to Robert and Cersei in the treasure room, giggling in between the golden armour that once belonged to Rhaeger Targaryen. Jaime huffed at the child while Tyrion smiled. 

 

"Ah, exploring the treasures. I do that myself sometimes, except with different objects." Jaime cast a look of utmost distaste at his brother and turned to Eya.

 

"Come on, Eya. Before your mother or father find you here."

 

Eya smiled, "Teach me about Rhaegar, uncle? Why is his name written on the armour?" She asked, words sweet in her mouth, hiding the true nature of what such a request would do. And Tyrion stared at her, finally seeing her for who she really was. 

 

He tight smile revealed no teeth like hers did and he offered her his arm, "Maybe another time, dear."

 

AN: I thought I would get this out as a little surprise for the second episode of season 4, which was absolutely brilliant :) I know its a bit slow and sounds repetitive, but I'm building her character bit by bit and soon enough, the real action and story line would begin. 


	4. The Winter, The Family, The Lie

 

Joffrey looked handsome and noble riding his stead for the final leg of the journey to Winterfell, or at least from Eya’s point of view from the small window of the carriage. But she knew that he was irritated, tired and beyond reasoning with at the moment. In fact, so was she. The journey had lasted just over two weeks and already the bitter cold was seeping up her legs through her skirts and into her bones, leaving her shivering uncomfortably whilst sitting beside her younger sister.

 

Her mother and Tommen sat opposite her, both quiet like her and feeling the cold through the clothing they thought would be warm enough but proved no match for the north. Rubbing her hands together furiously in an attempt to warm them and regain feeling in her frozen fingertips she offered a small smile to Mrycella, who giggled back when Eya pulled a face.

 

Cersei raised a brow at her eldest and shook her head, “Now don’t let the Stark’s see you like that.” She gently scolded, rubbing Tommen’s shoulder when he shivered again, pulling his cloak on tighter around him.

 

Eya grinned, her smile showing perfect teeth that came from all the dessert treats she had missed due to her adventurous nature as a child, one that she had yet to outgrow. “Sorry, mother. But this stiff air is soon going to rob me of my happiness if I don’t find a way to exercise it.” And with that, she pulled her youngest sibling, into her lap, cuddling with him and drawing a small giggle from his mouth.

 

Cersei shook her head, finally putting an end to their mischief when she spotted the large fortress of Winterfell flash through the window. “Come now, behave or I’ll have you ride with your uncle in that cold.”

 

Eya quieted down, pouting quietly before grinning again. The warning doing nothing to deter her need to find enjoyment of the possibilities of new adventure. “Would I be able to buy a fur cloak from the markets? I hear they are meant to be the warmest.”

 

Cersei nodded, “As long as you promise to wear it out to keep any sickness away.”

 

Nodding in agreement Eya managed to sit in silence the rest of the way, occasionally spotting her uncles in the small windows trotting by. And in a few moments, Tommen, Myrcella and Eya were pressed against the windows trying to get look at the large castle that stood as Winterfell’s proud centre, the grey stone and large walls with peeked rooves far more interest and amazing in their eyes compared to Red Keep.

 

Cersei shook her head, wondering how her eldest, at seventeen years could still act like a child, but then again, she always blamed how lenient everyone seemed to be on her. One smile from Eya could wipe the memory clean of any person of her wrongdoings; something that was both a hindrance when attempting to teach her a lesson, but a good skill to have if she were to ever rule successfully.

 

She pulled Tommen back and called the other two to sit back in their proper seats, gently reprimanding them that that was not how ladies of the court should act. The final length of the ride was quick and cold and before they knew it they were pulling up inside Winterfell’s walls, listening to Robert get off his horse and greet Ned Stark, the Lord of Winterfell and ruler of the North on Robert’s behalf.

 

The Queen, Cersei, was the first to exit the carriage and step into the frigid atmosphere of Winterfell. Face and body held in the most regal and womanly way that most found it hard to stare at her and look away at her. She offered a smile that didn’t reach her eyes and slowly walked forward to stand by her husband, offering the common pleasantries on being welcomed to Winterfell by the Lord.

 

Slowly she turned with her husband to introduce her own children, first Tommen, then Myrcella and finally her eldest, Eya. Eya grinned when she finally faced the dark haired folk of Winterfell, the adrenaline and excitement of the new place forcing the cold from her body and she steadily walked to her mother and played the dutiful role of eldest by offering her thanks to the Lord.

 

“Thank-you for letting us stay here, Lord Stark. Winterfell is a beautiful place.” She answered just loudly enough so the Stark’s of Winterfell heard her.

 

Eddard, in turn, broken from his dazed stare of the very familiar figure before him. A figure that mimicked her family’s genes perfectly with her chillingly blonde white hair and piercing violet eyes, and smiled taking her hand and kissing the knuckles, “It is an honour hosting you in our lands, Lady Eya.”

 

“Where is the Imp?” A sudden voice asked much louder than intended, earning itself a quick ‘shush’ from the eldest Stark girl, Sansa and a look from the Queen who in turn nodded in an unimpressed agreement.

 

“She’s right. Where is our dear brother?” She managed to ask Jaime, leaving Robert to ask something from Ned that shouldn’t have yet been broached.

 

“Come, I wish to see your crypts.”

 

Eya found this odd, furrowing her brow when her mother attempted to convince her stubborn father to leave the matter for another day, but he refused and went off with Ned, leaving the rest of them standing in the cold and Caityln Stark to diffuse the situation. “Come, I shall show you the rooms where you will be staying. I am sure you are all weary from the travel and yearning for some warm food and blazing fires.”

 

* * *

 

 

After a small, quiet dinner with the Stark’s, having decided to leave the feast for the next night, Eya found herself carefully climbing the stairs to her room, feeling much more tired than she originally hoped and even stopping at the top to catch her breath and rest for a moment.

 

“Lady Eya?” A rough voice interrupted her rest and she turned, embarrassed at being caught looking like an unfit fool who had struggled to climb a simple set of stairs. She found herself facing one of the Stark children, well their bastard to be exact and smiled.

 

“Lord Snow, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise how tired the travels had actually made me.” She offered a small smile at the young man, who happened to be only a few months younger than her.

 

He offered a tense smile, uncertain on how to interact with the eldest daughter who happened to be beautiful enough to cause him to stutter in nervousness. “W-would you like m-me to escort you to your room?” He said, offering a hand, instantly berating himself for giving himself hope that she would accept the help of a bastard.

 

But she surprised him, wrapping her arm around his and leaning a bit of her weight against him. “You, Lord Snow, are a life-saver. I was just about ready to cuddle up against that wall and fall asleep.” He glanced down at her, and was greeted with her wide smile and felt his own lips tilt up in a smile.

 

“I’m not sure how’d your mother react to finding her daughter sleeping on the ground like that.” He stated, slowly leading her towards the room he knew would house the family, all lined up together and hoping that she would pull him to a stop beside hers because he didn’t know which was whose.

 

Eya offered a small laugh in turn, “It would be no worse than the time she found me sleeping in the gardens after supper because I was too full to move from my spot.”

 

She stopped outside the second door and opened it, “Thank-you, Lord Snow. I would have had to face another one of my mother’s lectures had you not shown up to wake me from my spot.” She joked, pulling her arm free from his.

 

“Please, Lady Eya, call me Jon. And it was no trouble,” Jon offered a small smile, awkwardly standing outside her room, arms at his sides.

 

Eya smirked, “As long as you call me Eya then, Jon.”

 

He blushed and hid it by glancing at his booted feet. “Very well, Eya. I bide you goodnight.”

 

Eya smiled, “Goodnight, Jon.” And she slowly closed the door, leaving Jon outside it with a blush on his face at hearing her speak his name in her lyrical voice.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“My Queen, may I have a word?” The strong, male voice of Ned broke the quietness that Cersei was resting in at the table, having watched all her children leave to sleep and now simply enjoying the warmth of the fire roaring behind her in the fireplace.

 

Raising a brow at the Lord, she nodded and stood up, turning to face the fire with her goblet of wine in her hand. Ned stood opposite her, unsure of how to broach the subject that he desperately needed clearing for. Finally, he cleared his throat and held his arms behind his back, “Your eldest, Eya…” He bit his tongue for a moment and continued, “Does Robert know?”

 

The Queen’s piercing gaze cut through him and he looked away before her cutting gaze could render his nerves to nothing. It was no secret that the Queen was a hard woman, easy to displease and even easier to upset. “Does Robert know that she isn’t his? Yes. Does he know that the child he brought home to raise as his own is a Targaryen? No. His love and devotion have thankfully stopped him from seeing the truth.”

 

Ned nodded, “What if he were to discover the truth? Surely, she would not be safe.”

 

The Queen’s lips pursed, “I’ve managed to keep my husband blind these entire seventeen years she has lived, what would be a few more until she is married and safe in her husband’s home?” She took a sip and turned to Ned, lips set in a firm line and eyes drawn, looking just like a Queen should: ready to rule and hold the steady hand of her husband. “That does not mean you will go to him about this. He may not know directly what she is, but I don’t want him to discover that he has been raising his own enemy as a daughter. No word, Lord Stark, to Robert about Eya.”

 

He nodded and watched as she turned to walk away, “Aye, my Lady.”

 

And he was left, standing there and mulling over the information in his head. And wondering if he should decline Robert’s proposal, fearing for the safety of his family if Robert were to ever find out that he wanted to marry a Targaryen to a Stark, unknowingly placing the loyalty of the Stark’s into the Targaryen hands.

 

He glanced over his shoulder once more and shook his head, the Queen was right, as long as Robert didn’t know and Eya was unawares, no threat would befall them at the moment.

 

* * *

 

 

 

AN: I’m finally getting into the GoT story line. I know some of you will be scratching your heads about the missing years of Eya’s life, but it was just an overview of her growing up and a hint of how her relationships with people came to be. Now, that we’re at the beginning of Season 1, I can promise you it’ll get more exciting from now on.

 


	5. The Cloak, The Pup, The Fall

Eya wondered Winterfell during the days when her mother didn’t need her around or when her sister or younger brother weren’t hounding her for her attention. She felt herself suddenly remembering her wish to get a fur cloak and found herself wondering towards the markets, her thick, borrowed cloak from Sansa proving incompatible with the cold in her eyes.

 

She found a small stall set up in the wide market place selling furs of all ranges, from bear to wolf and even elk, all were carefully maintained, cared for and beautifully sewn onto cloaks, gloves and anything really. She marvelled at the range of cloaks, touching and petting the silky smoothness of the collars lined with fur and felt her eyes fall on the most beautiful white cloak she’d ever seen.

 

Beautiful but simply embroidery of leaves stitched on with a shade darker white then the fabric framed the bottom of the cloak, becoming sparse the higher it got. But the beauty of it continued when she laid eyes on the long white fur on the collar. She didn’t hesitate when she pointed to it, instantly falling in love with it and reached into her coin purse to pay for it, far too in love to even barter for a lower price.

 

She thanked the man and slipped it on the moment she managed to shrug off Sansa’s and tied it securely around her neck. Smiling at the instant warmth of it, she picked up the other cloak and walked away, feeling suddenly embarrassed at the stares she gained from the people of Winterfell. She finally managed to make it back to the castle and stopped when she heard swords clashing, she turned towards the training yard and pushed her way passed the small amount of guards gathered around two sparring men.

 

She instantly felt embarrassment for her brother when she saw him pulling out the sword Jaime had gifted him for his sixteenth name day and frowned angrily when he berated the oldest Stark boy for using training swords and not real ones, further provoking the latter by pointing his sword at the Stark and calling him weak.

 

She stepped forward and glared at Joffrey, “Joffrey!” She snapped, watching in anger when he turned to her with an unpleasant look to his face before dropping his sword and losing the expression when he spotted her. “That is no way to treat your hosts! Go, inside.” When he didn’t move, she strode up and picked up the sword he dropped and pushed him towards the castle, glaring at anyone who threatened to laugh at this situation, especially the Stark ward, Theon.

 

“Hurry up, and don’t let me catch you doing anything that stupid again?” She hissed into his ear, sword grasped firmly in one hand and taking her brothers forearm in the other, leading him away from the group of men and into the castle, instantly rounding in on him once out of sight. “Don’t you dare make up any excuses for that! I understand foul words exchanged after a battle, but you do not, ever! Pull out a sword in a training match.” She saw him open his mouth. “Don’t! If you are going to say something against what I’m saying, don’t! You should thank me that I’m not going to tell mother about this.”

 

His lips pursed and he stared at her defiantly before taking his sword back and putting it back in its sheath and then turning to stride away.

 

Eya watched him walk with a frown, noticing his sudden change of attitude the moment they set foot in Winterfell. “Oh Joffrey, what has gotten into you?”

 

* * *

 

 

Three days passed since that incident and it was easy to see that Joffrey had yet to forgive her for pulling him out of that situation. Tommen was following her around, begging her to show her the famous Stark Crypts when a fell voice cried into the air, suddenly cutting short. Both children stared at each other, wondering just what that had been until the whimpers and whines of one of the Stark’s direwolves started to rise above the pounding of the smith.

 

“What is that?” Tommen asked her, glancing towards the noise before shooting towards it before she even had a chance to fully register the situation.

 

“Tommen!” She called, picking up her skirts and giving chase after her quick footed brother, barely keeping him in sight when he turned the corner and disappeared into the lesser explored and used areas of Winterfell. “Tommen!” She called again, finally losing sight of him in the old castle structure, unable to hear anything but the pups whining and her heavy breathing.

 

“Eya!” Tommen’s voice suddenly cried, panicked, followed by a wail from him.

 

Her eyes widened in panic and she shot forward, weaving around the corner and the next until she reached him, darting forward to engulf him in a hug, covering his eyes when she finally spotted the reason for his distress. “No,” She gasped. Eyes befalling on the sight of one of the Stark children, Bran, if she remembered. Laying immobile and unconscious to the world around him, his legs curled to the side uncomfortably and his arm laying around him.

 

She pulled Tommen back, keeping his back facing the sight of Bran and gazing into his panicked eyes. “Tommen, I need you to get help! Okay, listen to me.” She called to him softly, trying desperately to keep her own voice level and calm to keep him from panicking even more, when he nodded she continued. “Go and get Lady Stark and Lord Stark, tell them to fetch any healer they have and bring them hear immediately.” He nodded again, head bobbing but his eyes watered and lips quivered. “Okay, go Tommen!” She pushed him towards the path they had taken and watched him disappear around the corner before looking at Bran, cringing and closing her eyes when she saw nothing but the rise and fall of his chest.

 

The whimpering continued from the pup and she shushed it, gently reaching a hand towards its snout to rub its head soothingly. It sniffed at her for a moment before letting her rub its head for a moment, whimpers dying down until it turned and lied down, head against Bran’s arm and watching her through hooded, despaired eyes.

 

She stood when she heard rushed footsteps coming towards her and turned to see the Lord and Lady of Winterfell rushing towards her, eyes panicked and breathes quick, they stopped immediately when they noticed the immobile state of Bran and her standing there.

 

“What have you done?” The Lady asked, voice enraged from seeing her son in the state that he was, unable to truly understand nor comprehend the situation.

 

“I- We found him like this, Tommen heard the wolf’s whining and we came here to find Bran like this,” Eya explained, fingers twitching nervously when the healers came after the Lord, followed by the other Stark siblings picked up along the way.

 

Lady Stark wasn’t listening though for she was already at Bran’s side, fingers yearning to pick him up and cuddle him, but the healer’s words stopped her, telling her that is she made any sudden movements that his health could drastically turn for the worst. And so she sat there, watching with keen eyes as the healers fluttered around the boy, her husband crouching beside her, offering her his warmth and comfort, while the other Stark children moved about, attempting to catch sight of whatever was happening and why their parents were reacting like this.

 

Eya turned away from the scene and blinked her eyes to clear them of any moistness and walked past the Stark children and her own family that was now gathering, her mother looking dishevelled and Tommen clutching desperately at her skirts. She caught her mother’s gaze and lowered hers, “I’m going to my room. I need to rest.”

 

And without waiting, she ran back. Her emotions suddenly breaking free and the immense panic and guilt override any lesson she taught about not showing weakness in public, and her tears fell, disappearing into the white fur of her cloak. And the worst part was, she didn’t even know why she was affected as much as this. Bran was neither her brother nor a friend, she barely spoke to the child. But something about this situation cried out to her, seeing a child so close to death and not being able to do anything about it 

“Lady Eya?” A sweet, masculine voice of Jon Snow called through her door following the insistent knocking. Eya bit her lip wondering if ignoring the summons to dinner could be avoided with the hoax of having a cold.

 

But she shook her head. No, she was her mother’s daughter, a Lannister by blood and bond and she would not cower for something she wasn’t responsible for. But the look she earned from Lady Stark still pierced her mind even now. Finally she sighed when he called her again, then furrowed her brow wondering why it was Jon summoning her and not Robb, from what she heard of her father’s secret discussion with Lord Stark, he had attempted to have her marry with him.

 

She quickly flattened her skirt and opened the door, offering a small smile to Jon. “I’m sorry. I offer you my condolences, what happened to Bran was horrible.” She bowed her head slightly, trying to avoid the look in his eyes.

 

Jon sighed, “Bran was always so sure-footed when he climbed.” He offered a hand to her and she took it, curling her arm around his and letting him lead the way to the dining hall. He noticed the way her brow furrowed and her teeth chewed at her teeth. “I don’t blame you. Lady Stark was just over-reacting. We don’t blame you.”

 

Eya looked up briefly, met his gaze and dropped it again, cheeks lighting up with a lovely shade of red before she nodded. “I still feel horrible for it happening. Just seeing something like that made me feel…I’m not sure. I’m sorry, my emotions have lost control of themselves.”

 

Jon nodded, “Lady Stark hasn’t left his room since this afternoon.”

 

Eya nodded, turning into the dining and noticing that only her family made up of Tommen, Mrycella and mother sat, the youngest Stark was sitting awkwardly beside Tommen who was talking to him about cats. Robb sat opposite the Queen with Sansa and Arya beside him. Jon stopped just outside, “Lord Stark if with Bran too,”

 

“Are you going to dine with us?” Eya asked, eyeing the small group of people from their spot in the doorway, haven’t yet to be noticed.

 

Jon shook his head, “Lady Stark doesn’t want me dining with the guests.”

 

Furrowing her brow she glanced at the table before turning back to him, “The Lady isn’t here. And you wouldn’t refuse to accompany me to dinner, would you?”

 

He managed a small smile before taking her arm he released again and led her to the table, drawing the attention of the occupants. Tommen beamed when he saw her and waved to her, causing Rickon to look at him oddly. Eya smiled, feeling more like herself without having to worry about the Lord and Lady of Winterfell judging her for her behaviour.

 

“So nice of you to join us, Eya.” The Queen clucked, “However late you are.”

 

Bowing her head slightly, Eya apologized, “Sorry. I… I was feeling under the weather.”

 

Her mother nodded and Eya sat down beside Sansa before glancing at Jon who followed reluctantly, glancing at the Queen who turned her attention back to her plate and idly picked and ate her food. Eya filled her plate with some of the food offered and ate in silence, flicking her hair over her shoulder every time it fell in front of her face. This didn’t go unnoticed by the youngest female Stark who stared in interest at her hair and features, turning to Sansa as her customary advocate for her curious questions.

 

“Why does she look like a Targaryen?”

 

* * *

 

**AN: I’m so sorry this took so long. I was dying because Uni decided to put three major essays into a span of two weeks and the silly thing I am, I left them all to the last minute. Yeah… I’m sure we’ve all done that at some point and come to regret it.**


	6. Chapter 6: The Secret, The Song, The Cold

Cersei froze, Sansa stiffened, Jon stared, Bran twitched, Rickon wondered and Eya… Eya went as quiet and as still as a deer being stalked by the predators around her. Her hand had frozen in the position of raising her fork to her mouth, she stared at the wide eyes of Arya who stared back at her. Eya bit her lip, placed her fork down and licked her lips to relieve them of the momentary pain of driving her teeth into the skin of her lips.

 

“I…” She stopped and looked around, at her mother first who watched with eyes that flashed thousands of emotions, never stopping too long on one, not offering any comfort at the moment. She sighed. “I am-“

 

“It is rude to ask questions the guest isn’t comfortable with.” Sansa answered quickly, shooting Arya a stare that promised she’d tell her mother about this.

 

“I didn’t know she was uncomfortable about it.” Arya retorted just as quickly.

 

Sansa huffed, “No, but-“

 

“If she doesn’t want to answer she doesn’t have too.”

 

“And she won’t.” Cersei cut in, ending the oncoming argument.

 

“What’s a Targaryn?” Rickon, the ever innocent boy, asked.

 

Eya bit her lip. “One day you will find out… just not today.” She placed her fork down. “If I may be excused.” She left quickly, picking up her skirts and weaving around the corner, avoiding the growing pup of a direwolf sitting there, watching her with keen eyes. Jon’s wolf, she remembered, seeing him once or twice around his owner. Ghost.

 

She scuttled around the wolf and continued to her room. Ignoring the stares of Jaime who stood at the doorway, eyeing her with question in his eyes. Rushing up the stairs and past busy maids and servants setting rooms and cleaning crevices, Eya tried her hardest to cast the thoughts of Arya’s question from her mind.

 

Eya may have had the eyes, the hair, and the blood of a Targaryan. But she had the cunning and smarts of her Lannister family and learnt long ago that keeping her father, the king, in the shadow of her true lineage a secret was best for not only her but everyone dear she knew. Who knew what he would do in his anger and sense of betrayal. Would he kill her loved ones? He would definitely kill her.

 

Shaking her head again she reached her door and entered it, locking it shut and rushing straight towards the fireplace to warm herself up from the sudden chill that crawled up her spine. Something was telling her that the innocent question that had left Arya’s lips would turn things for the worst, and she would be the centre of her own disaster. She cursed quietly, violently pulling the pins from her hair and tugging a hand through her stubborn locks.

 

A knock came on her door and she froze, hand mid-way through her hair. “My Lady?” A calm voice uttered, the voice of one of the handmaidens working for the Stark’s.

 

“Yes, come in.” Eya uttered, hand threading once more through her hair before it fell to her side.

 

The door opened and she met eyes with the handmaid who shuffled to close the door and bowed. She remained silent as she walked to the fireplace and filled it with more logs to keep it burning through the night and dusted her hands off before turning back to Eya. “My Lady, shall I help you prepare for bed?”

 

Nodding her head, she sat down in front of her vanity and allowed the maid to clean her face with a soft towel and brush her hair before braiding it. She stood still and helped when she could to remove her heavy dress and slipped into her nightgown before the cold could set it. With feet then pushed into slippers and pillows fluffed for her comfort, she lit the lamp beside her bed and took the book lying on it.

 

“That will be all,” Eya offered a small smile of thanks to the handmaiden who had helped her and watched as she bowed and left, closing the door behind her.

 

Eya sighed, rubbing her eyes when suddenly tears seem to burn at the edges. And she didn’t even know why. Maybe it was the events of Bran’s fall that was still affecting her, or the pain of his family. But something was going terribly wrong and she wished it never happened. No-one deserved to have that happen to their child, and especially not to some-one as sweet as Bran.

 

She sniffed and rubbed her eyes roughly, blinking back the tears and opening her book. Hoping to distract herself from her rampant emotions. She stared at the words before her before flinging the book away from her. Her eyes burned, words flashing through her head like a curse. _Targaryan, dragons, Rhaegar._ They kept repeating themselves in her head and she didn’t fight the tears this time and let them consume her and push her to her sleep.

 

…

 

Morning came quickly and with it the freezing cold air when the maid opened the door to add wood to the fire and wake Eya.

 

“Good morn, Lady Eya.”

 

Eya nodded a greeting back, still drowsy from her stressful night. She burrowed under the warm blankets some more, watching the maid rush about putting wood in the fire with wide eyes. Fighting off sleep in the warm confines of her bed was difficult, especially when the only light that greeted her was the growing fire and the barest of sun through the heavy grey clouds outside.

 

“Lady Eya, I’ve prepared a dress for you today.” The maid peeked over her covers to determine if Eya was awake.

 

She blushed when she met the maid’s eyes and slowly sat up, dragging the warm fur covers with her. The maid watched with an amused twinkle in her eye, understanding her reluctance to leave the bed. Eya glanced over the dress on the hanging on the vanity, taking in the subtle blue stitching on the blue dress a shade darker. On the sleeves and rising past the shoulders looked like a growing pattern, disappearing over the shoulders in what Eya could assume would be featured on the back of the material as well.

 

It was almost as beautiful as Sansa’s dresses she had seen the eldest Stark female wear. Almost, Eya assured. With Sansa’s beautiful hair and fine features, she could make any material beautiful.

 

Nodding, Eya voiced her opinion, “I love it, thank you.”

 

The maid nodded and moved to hang it closer to the fire, already anticipating that the Lady she served would struggle to find reason to get out of bed if she didn’t warm her clothes. “I have also chosen padded boots lined with fur and your white cloak if you wish to walk outside today. We anticipate a snow fall today, mid-afternoon.”

 

Eya nodded, “I’ve never really seen it snow before. I want to see it.” She smiled, “I want to see it fall on the greenest of trees.”

 

The maid nodded, “It’s a beautiful sight, Lady Eya. But try not to spend too long outside, while beautiful, Winterfell is getting colder and the nights longer. Danger and sickness will begin the line the streets.”

 

Eya blinked and stared at the maid, “Is it not like the Stark’s say? ‘Winter is Coming’?”

 

The maid nodded, “Aye, the banner words. Wise words for all those who fall under the banner.”

 

Eya finally stretched her arms over her head, moaning as her back arched out its kinks. She rubbed her eyes and brushed her fingers through her knotted hair, wincing as it caught and tugged at her scalp painfully. The maid came around to the bed, holding out a warm robe for her to slip on before dressing

 

She thanked the maid, slipping on her slippers as well before shuffling quickly towards the fire in the room, cringing as the cold air nipped at her bare shins. The maid watched dutifully but couldn’t help grinning at the Lady. “You get used to the cold, Lady Eya.”

 

Eya nodded, “I wished that happened more quickly. It’s freezing!” She laughed at herself though. The winter like weather was something she would never experience back home, so she wouldn’t take it for granted and spend it locked up in her room.

 

The maid giggled quietly, hiding her grinning face behind her palm before motioning towards the dress. “Come, my Lady, let’s get you better dressed for this weather, and then you may break-fast with the other Lords and Ladies.”

 

Nodding she cringed as she shed her robe and her sleeping dress. Rubbing her bare arms she quickly pulled on fresh underclothes and thick stockings. Her hair was pinned out of the way as the maid scurried to pull the dress over her head and pat down the crinkles. Eya stood still and let the maid tie the fasting’s at the front, doing a much quicker job then she would have done herself. Feeling slightly warmer than before, Eya let the maid lead her away from the fire to sit herself down in front of the vanity. She took out a brush and began on brushing the sometimes uncontrollable mass of hair. While it may look beautiful and luscious in calm weather, the moment a breeze blew by, it became as heinous as the worst of crimes.

 

The maid worked quick wonders, tying knots and braids before piling it atop her head in an elegant mass of braid work. It was beautiful and simplistic almost, adding depth to the pattern on her dress. Eya nodded her thanks before leaning in to add a bit of depth to her eyes with thin kohl and a balm to keep her lips moist to avoid the cracking and drying that was almost expected in the cold outside.

 

She slipped her slippers off and pulled the heavy boots on, wondering briefly where they had come from but shrugging. Most likely her mother, seeing as Eya had seen her wearing similar boots earlier on in the day yesterday. She bid her maid good-day and left, slowly pulling the cloak over her should and taking a breath of the cold air that flowed through the hallways.

 

She began her walk to the main hall, slipping past open and closed doors, noticing that her father was no-where to be seen. The hall was filled with a soft chatter of folk already breaking the fast and she quickly saw her younger sister sitting by Arya and Sansa. She grinned at the three and sat down beside Sansa.

 

“Good morn, Eya.” Mrycella sweetly greeter her sister around the mouthful of fruit she had in her mouth.

 

Eya winced, “Swallow your food first, you piggy.”

 

Mrycella blushed as Arya laughed and Sansa offered a delicate smile to show her amusement. “Sorry,” She tried again, mouth free of food.

 

The morning followed with more laughs shared between the four of them, each earning to ignore the horrible news that drifted about them about Bran. However, nothing ever lasted as Lord Stark appeared and ushered the Stark girls to their lessons and bid Eya and Mrycella a good-day before leaving himself for his duties as well.

 

Eya waited until Mrycella excused herself, finishing her warmed sweet juice before standing to brave the cold outside However, just as she turned she jumped. Startled and gasping, Eya glared half-heartedly at Jon Snow, who was looking just as startled and bashful.

 

“Jon! Don’t startle me like that!” She scolded, however her grin made light of the words she said.

 

Jon couldn’t help but chuckle himself, “Perhaps the Lady ought to pay more attention to her surroundings.”

 

Unable to help the grin, Eya giggled and followed him outside the hall, stopping beside the doorway leading outside the Keep. Jon stopped as she did, glancing and catching the way she made to move to open the doors. “Are you planning on going outside in this weather?”

 

Eya turned to him, blinking. “Yes?” It was a question. She was sure she was dressed warmly enough for it, her maid having thought ahead and also given her fur lined gloves.

 

Jon frowned, “At least let me accompany you then, it’s awfully cold outside.”

 

Eya was tempted to tease him, so very tempted to watch him as she picked up on his wish to keep her company. But decided against it and hooked her arm around his, grinning at the way his eyes bashfully glanced straight ahead and away from her. She nodded, “Lead the way then, Lord Snow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I guess I'm going to make a horrible habit of starting stories when I haven't even finished the last ones yet. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this! I guess you can call this a little tribute to the start of Season 4 (which is amazing!). I've had this idea on my mind for a while and have finally gained enough confidence to post it up.
> 
> This chapter has been updated because of some helpful feed back I've gotten :D


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